Sloth Eyes
by The Rain Will Fade
Summary: Hazel is a 13 year old girl from New York, well at least that's what she's told. Always weary that Hazel, but life makes her weary. So follow the weary and shy Hazel as she navigates through this weird world. Surely something is bound to spark in her eyes
1. prolog

staring at the tv, the white-cloaked men, and few women study the girl. Her once ashy blonde hair a now a striking light blue.

"Wow isn't this amazing! Edith, tell me, what's your secret for being so smart?" The young girl, Edith, only shrugs, a goofy smile appearing on her face.

"I don't know, my mommy says I was just born with a big brain... But I know that isn't true, so don't let her know I know." The young girl whispered the last part as she looked around suspiciously; her light, curly, hair shadowing her face.

"Don't worry, we won't tell her. Am I right folks?! Well thank you for your time Edith, I bet you're gonna give Stark a run for their money... Now turn to the crowd and say goodbye."

The host, a fairly young brunette, grasped Edith by her shoulder as she hopped off the chair. The young genius smiling brightly, just as she was told, waved the crowd goodbye. Running off to the other end the stage, her hair flitted away off the screen as the camera panned back to the host.

"Well isn't she just too cute. Now don't forget to see Edith in the upcoming movie..."

Staring at the tv they pondered the ways of how her hair had become suddenly so blue; as it's not a natural color pigment in hair.

"It's rumored that her mother died it as a publicity stunt... She couldn't have possibly rewritten her genetic code just to change her hair." The woman is the first to speak.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she nearly glowers at the tv screen; then tracing a hand through her graying hair.

"Well it's not entirely impossible for that to be the case, but if we study the before an after photos you'll notice that even her eyelashes and eyebrows have taken the pigment, if not more." The shortest of the group spoke. A stout man standing at around five feet, listed as he stared at the headshot of the little girl.

"Alright people, we need to come up with a verdict. Now before we start another debate, I've decided to do something simpler, a poll. The higher up want a decision by the end of the day! Now pass around the paper and figure out your answer."

The head scientist spoke out; with clenched fists he tightly gripped the rail, watching as his top scientists argue over something as minimal as a hair pigment. While he also found it impressive that this girl could alter her genetics, he wants to see what else she knows. And furthermore, just to how advanced her knowledge of science is. Grinning he watched as his team file over to the computer and press the simple yes or no button. He doesn't want to have to waste time over simplicities such as concern and error. There's much better things to do.

"Has everyone voted." Watching his team nod in response, he smiles. "Good."

walking down the stairs he ignored the complaints of his crew. They just don't understand. He thought as he straightens out his blue lab coat. This is all for the greater good. Stepping up the computer he types in some simple code and watches in delight as the green bar heavily outweighs the red. Smiling smugly he turns around to face his crew.

"So it's been decided. Project Plague Blue is to be commenced starting now!" T


	2. Chapter 1

Glancing out the window the taxi window, the brunette girl stares at the brick buildings of lower New York. She doesn't ever recall coming here, the buildings looking oddly foreign and out of place in her mind. But, according to Ms. Huckleberry, she's been living here whole life; learning that she had once lived near the Canadian border, prior, to the _accident_. Ironically enough, the brunette seemed to have no recollection of what the _accident_ was either.

"Ms. Huckleberry?" The young brunette spoke out through the silence. Meek, the younger girl turns her head to the older ash-blonde woman. Her blonde hair pulled back in an intricate, braided bun.

"Yes…"

"What was the accident again? My memory is just so… foggy, and I can't seem to recall any of the prio-"

"I told you, for the fiftieth time, stop rambling! And I told you Hazel, you stuck a fork in an outlet! It took about 5 minutes for someone to pull you off the damn thing… I guess your brain got a little fried…" the older woman snickers at her own comment; while everyone else, Hazel and the taxi driver, looked around uncomfortably.

Although her comments seemed to sting at the young girl uncomfortably, she rerouted her gaze back to Ms. Huckleberry, who is more than annoyed after repeating the same answer for the fiftieth time. Staring stern the girl felt immensely dumbfounded at the idea of losing so much memory to such a small shock. But, on the other hand, she doesn't feel like she can argue the older woman's accord. According to said woman, Sherry had been an absolute thorn in her side for her previous parents. Thus becoming too much for her foster parents to handle, and in return resulted in her rehoming.

Rubbing her nose, Hazel stifled a sniffle.

"Are you crying again?"

"No…"

Trying to hide her face, Hazel tilts her head towards the ground; her loosely wound hair shrouding her face, effectively hiding her thick tears. Hazel had noticed by now that she's a bit of a cry baby. She has even counted how many times she has cried today, thirteen. Hazel has cried about thirteen times in the last twenty-six hours and she's not all too sure on how her face isn't permanently scarred from all the tears.

Loudly sniffling, she tries to wipe the tears from her face that finally seem to slow their course. I hope there isn't too much snot. The girl thought satirically, as she smiled a grim grin.

"We're almost here" The older woman spoke up awkwardly, trying to avoid the topic of the girls never-ending tears. In response, Hazel only nods her head, not wanting the latter to see her red face. Ms. Huckleberry only hums in response, her foot loudly tapping against the carpeted floor.

The next ten minutes seemed to drawl on, but when the taxi seemed to finally come to a stop Hazel's breath seemed to catch in her throat.

"Fifty bucks lady." The old drivers' voice called out from the front seat of the yellow cab.

"Yeah, Whatever."

Glancing up through her long, dark hair, Hazel watches as Ms. Huckleberry practically throws the money at the man. He's only doing his job… Hazel thought grimly as her frown only seemed to deepen. Suddenly a finger was poking at Hazel's back which caused her to quickly turn around, forgetting her runny eyes.

"Let's go." Ms. Huckleberry deadpaned to the young girl as she slams the yellow door shut.

Opening her door, Hazel gave once last glance to the driver. Softly her eyes glance to the rearview window meeting the old eyes of the driver; who only gave her a look of pity. Furrowing her brows, Hazel waves a goodbye and watches as the old man mouths a simple _'good luck.'_ Why would I need luck? She thought as her nerves suddenly skyrocket at the man's simple notion. Stepping out of the taxi, she grabs the light blue backpack that sat behind her feet.

Hazel doesn't have many clothes, the backpack and the clothes she wears now, were all gifts from Ms. Huckleberry. All had been given to Hazel when she awoke from the hospital bed. She now, is wearing one of said outfits from Ms. Huckleberry. The clothes themselves consist of a light pink graphic tee, light wash skinny jeans, and some basic, slip-on, black shoes. And while Hazel appreciates the thought of receiving the clothes, she couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in them. The pants are little bit too tight, and so is the bra; but she merely shrugs it off, happy that she doesn't have to walk around naked.

This idea makes Hazel bizarrely appreciative to the bitter blonde woman. The idea of simply owning something made the girl feel happy.

Stepping out of the car, Hazel gently closes the door and steps forward. Tilting her head up she stares up at the large, brick building. _Richards Home for the Youth _with a heavy sigh she watches as Ms. Huckleberry walks past her. Ms. Huckleberry's stern gaze unwavering as she opens the door. Leaving Hazel to run deftly after her thin form; quickly Hazel grabs onto the large wooden door. Entering the home, Hazel looks for the blonde head. Taking a few steps forward, she spots said, blonde head, sitting at a chair in a office. Her stern voice echoing as she talks to the woman behind the desk.

Glancing around, she decides not to enter. Deciding she'd rather stay in the hallway than stick around with the cruel and ornery blonde. Turning in the other direction she spots a bench placed across from the door. Perfect. Taking a seat she takes in the form of the building. The hallway she just entered is painted a deep and decaying beige. The high bead board is a dark wood that makes the hallway seem smaller than it actually is. While the hallway may seem dark and dated, it filled with an immense amount of light from the two main windows at the back of the hallway. There's windows scattered just about everywhere, which also helps with keeping the place well lit.

Turning my gaze back to the door, I stare at the name plate next to the door _Head Mistress Richards_. I wonder if she's a direct relative of the original Richard who opened the place? Hazel sat in that bench for about twenty-five minutes; sitting idly as she twiddled her thumbs, waiting for someone to call her name. Idly Hazel watched as some of the other children scurried by her; snickering when they saw who their roommate would be. At that moment Hazel felt a deep and dark fear start to creep up her back. These did not look like children, they all looked older, and much meaner than Hazel. Trying to push a side her fear, Hazel took note of their garb. They all wear the same thing, sort of; for girls it's a plaid gray skirt, white button up shirt, dark blue tie, knee high socks, and old, worn looking, black loafers. The boys wear almost the exact same thing except gray pants instead of skirts. But the one thing that seem to be prevalent in all their uniforms is the fact they're all dated and faded; most likely due to being hand-me-downs for everyone.

"Hazel will you come in here?"

A polite voice wrung out from nowhere, drawing Hazel out of her daze. Slowly standing up, Hazel smiles softly and walks over to the office. Stepping in she takes in how messy it is. Papers litter just about everywhere that isn't floor, or one of the two sitting chairs in front of the bulky desk. Besides the papers photos and plaques line the walls, and on the woman's desk there is an old computer.

Meeting the woman's gaze, Hazel noted how she didn't smile in return, but rather a deep frown. The woman, is stout and graying, and currently pointing to a chair.

"please take a seat Ms. Hazel." Following her order Hazel sits beside Ms. Huckleberry with a small frown; something telling her that Ms. Richards isn't the most approachable person. Uncomfortably Hazel shifted beneath the woman's blunt stare, as if waiting for something.

"H-hi I'm Hazel." The brunette reached a hand out to the woman protected by the desk.

"Welcome Hazel, to Richards Home for the Youth, we welcome you with the warmest sincerities."

Ms. Richards spoke the rehearsed words with empathy, but to Hazel it only made the woman seem inviting. It let her fell like she might have landed herself somewhere good in all of this mess. Turning away from Hazel, Ms. Richards turned back to Ms. Huckleberry and started to speak again.

"Ms. Huckleberry. I believe we've worked out all the cordialities for Miss. Hazel over here… If you'd like, you're more than welcome to go home."

Hazel shifted uncomfortably at the change in atmosphere. The two women seemed to have an unspoken conversation, because not too shortly after Ms. Huckleberry was picking up her things.

"Well if you insist… Bye Hazel, and be good, bye…" Ms. Huckleberry's words filtered off as the door slowly closed; a loud creaking noise chilling at Hazel's back.

"So, Hazel ... we do have some rules here at Richards. For starters no outside clothes are allowed as it makes it easier to keep dress code. Also dress code is strictly enforced, no unbuttoned shirts, which must be tucked in at all times. Which leads me to our next set of rules, shower time is at 7pm no later. Nightwear consists of a plain t shirt and dark blue sweat pants. Undergarments must be worn at all times. You are allowed to leave the premise, but you must sign out and state where you're going to. Curfew is 9pm, if you aren't back by then you must find somewhere else to stay for the night. Now on to the house rules: no fighting, no loud noises, must complete daily chores, if younger resident needs help- YOU will help them.

oh and breakfast is at 6am, lunch should be provided by the school, but on weekends and holidays lunch is served at 12:30, dinner is at 5:30. That seems to cover everything. Marie will be retrieving your new clothes. Oh! And before I forget, all outside items must be approved before they are brought into the facility. So hand over the backpack."

Feeling rather frazzled by the vast amount of information, Hazel numbly handed the backpack over. Any warmth she had felt from Ms. Richards was gone and she realized that it was all an act. Now all that's left is the hollow and apocalyptic glare of Ms. Richards, and it left her feeling rather scared.

Eagerly Ms. Richards grabs the bag away from Hazel, quickly yanking away the few items of clothing Hazel owns. Nervously observing, she watched as a sly grin crept up Ms. Richards face. Then without a care in the world, Ms. Richards reached in the bag and yanked out the few clothes and threw them in the metal trash bin.

"No outside clothes permitted." Hazel watches dumbfounded at the woman's boldness.

But the only thing she could think was; did you really have to throw my underwear away?

"What did you just say?" Nearly jumping out of the seat, Hazel gripped the sides of the chair.

"Nothing."

"Good. You can keep the backpack, but unfortunately all the other materials will have to be disposed of."

Hazel stares grimly at the bag, watching as the bag was suddenly in front of her again. Taking the bag back, she frowned at it new lightness. The only thing she has to her name is a backpack, and for some reason that reason that really struck a chord with Hazel. This sucks, she thought in dismay.

*click*

Switching her gaze, she watched as Ms. Richards mouth got very close to an old school microphone.

"Marie please report to the head mistresses office. I repeat, Marie please report to the head mistresses office."

Switching her gaze, Hazel stole a moment to finally see what her surroundings are. The room is littered with photo plaques; their dates running shockingly far back. The first photo is to the far left the wall. The whole thing is stained yellow and brown, but the shocking thing about the photo is the date. Stapled onto the plaque is a gold piece of metal with the date _1893 The Grand Opening of Richards Home for the Youth_.

No wonder why the place seems so outdated, they probably get low funding too. I wonder why she sta-. Hazel's thoughts were promptly cut off.

"Hello Marie, I'd like for you to bring our newest resident to the clothing closet. Also Marie, this will be your new roommate. Hazel meet Marie."

The manly looking teenage girl had thrown Hazel for a curveball. To say the brute looking person in front of her is a female is shocking to Hazel. While Marie doesn't lack in the womanly curves, she has the stark face of an angry man. And hell does she look angry too.

"Of course, Head Mistress Richards." Marie's deep voice cut out through the room.

"Good. Now, be gone."

Standing up Hazel meekly follows the brutish teen out of the room. She notes how long, and shockingly straight, Marie's black hair is. Not even a single wave seemed to flit in her perfect hair. Turning into one of the archways, Hazel stares up at the dusty and dirty stairwell. The stairs themselves are long and looming, and quite frankly seem to go on forever. Reminding her of the song she had heard on the long taxi drive here. What was it called again… Oh, Stairway to Heaven.

"What, are you scared? Fucking move twerp!" Instantly Hazel's head jerked up to the tall girl who glowers at her from the top of the stairs.

"Sorry."

Her voice is quiet as she runs up the stairs. After about four flights of stairs the girls found themselves on the third floor. Walking into the hallway, Hazel stops when she nearly walks into the walking wall. Standing in front of a tall white door, she watched as Marie swung the door open. Her right hand griping the door open as she leans in the closet.

"What sizes?"

"Uh, medium shirt, Large pants, size 7 shoe." She rushed out, not wanting to anger _the thing_.

"Kind of fat for a short person, huh." Hazel fiddled with her fingers, trying to ignore the girls mean comments; figuring that now would not be the best time to cry.

"I-I-uh guess…"

"Hm. Well either way, take these, you can change in that bathroom over there… Sloth eyes,"

Quickly Hazel scurried off to the bathroom, no longer wanting to hear _The Things_ mean jabs. Sloth eyes? Really…

Looking around the bathroom Hazel noticed the multiple stalls in the bathroom. Then, in front of the stalls are showers; but, half of them are missing shower curtains. Do they shower with each other? Is that what she meant? Feeling her face burn at the idea, she scuttled into a stall. Plopping down on the toilet seat she fumbled with the bundle of clothes; a wrinkled white button up shirt, gray plaid skirt, white underwear, white knee high socks, tan sports bra that seems more or so like a strip of fabric, and a dark blue tie, then black loafers that seem like they've seen better days. The outfit itself is exceptionally bland. Stripping down Hazel hurriedly re-dresses herself as quickly as possible. Which was much harder than it seemed.

A/N

I'll try to update as much as possible. So yeah this is my second FF, I've never actually written in this point of view, so if y'all could give recommendations on where to improve, that'd be wonderful. If you enjoy the story favorite it, got anything to say? Leave a comment. But for now Bon Voyage


	3. Chapter 2

_Whew, chapter 2, I probably won't have a consistent upload sequence; as I'll just update when I write a new chapter. Also, we got a follow and favorite on the story, so uh, thanks for that. It's honestly kind of enthralling to see that people want to read something you've written. so carry on and enjoy!_

Walking out of the stall Hazel finds that Marie is gone, and that she is left alone. Holding herself close, she walks out of the bathroom. Starting the trek down the hallway, Hazel reads the names off of the doors to herself. The quiet chatter and footsteps making the building seem haunted, rather than a place that actually inhibits humans. Hazel's eyebrows furrow in confusion when she reads the names, some are boys and some are girls. Wouldn't they have certain genders on separate floors? The thought seemed to worry Hazel, but she _tried _to shrug it off. The thoughts weigh an uneasy implication in her mind.

Continuing her walk, she stopped once she saw a familiar name towards the end of the hallway to the left.

Marie Rodriguez

Hazel Redwood

Great, so it's just the two of us huh. This totally doesn't sound like five years of abuse waiting to happen. Hazel thought cynically as she knocked on the door. Hearing no response, she quietly open the door, her forehead lining with sweat as her nerves spiked. Instantly she calmed when she realized there was no one actually there. Stepping in, she took in her surroundings. The room is a ivory color with a large window on the back wall. a long curtain hangs dead still as the neatly made beds make the room look like an old infirmary. The old thing that makes the room feel like something of the 21st century is the digital clock on the left side, nightstand.

There's really no difference between the beds, only the fact one of them has a stack of clothes while the other is neatly pressed. Feeling rather awkward, Hazel sat on the bed she presumes to be hers, suddenly a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. Sighing, she pushes the clothes over and kicks her feet up. Flopping to the side she rolls over, ignoring the loud creaking of the bed.

First it was the heavy shoulders. Then it was the heavy compression in her lungs and lastly, the numbing in her head that told her she was more than ready to cry. Feeling the dam of tears break, she stared at the wall. Hazel never really understood why she cries so much, all she knows is that she does, and a lot at that too. Finally accepting her tearful fate, she stopped fighting her eyes and let out a heavy breath. One that let all her tears fall and rest in her hair in pillow.

Certainly I couldn't have been that bad of a child. I'm good. I swear. What did I do to deserve to be put here? It's so unclean, and old, I swear that lady's computer was at least a decade old. Seriously thing must run on windows vista! Her thoughts run rampant as she tries not to wail, her teeth gritting painfully as she tries to accept her new fate. So she laid there in an attempt to forget the reality at hand.

It seemed like hours before something happened; and much to Hazel's dismay, it was Big Bertha. Another nickname she had come up with for Marie. Listening to Bertha's heavy footsteps, Hazel feigned to be asleep as she tuned into the other chatting voices in the room.

"So…This is our new 'resident!' Meet Sloth Eyes!"

Suddenly Hazels' body is whipped around as she went from laying in a fetal position to being sprawled out on the bed. Breathing heavily she thrashed around in the strong grip of her holder. The bright light of the room, basically blinding her; and much to Hazel's dismay, Marie doesn't seem to care about the thrashing.

"See, doesn't she look like a sloth?! Look at her eyes… Is someone crying?"

"Hm, I think so…"

Panting heavily, Hazel's frantic eyes jumped over to the spectators in the room. There's two of them. A tall man-boy with dark hair eyes whose outfit fits a little too tightly. As if they didn't have any other size for the portly man-boy. Standing next to him is a medium height brunette with blue eyes. But even from the distance Hazel can tell there's something off about the girl. The way her eyes glower at Hazel lets her know that she's probably crazy. Nearly cowering in fear, she shrivels just a hairline further back when the brunette suddenly smirks at her.

"You know what we do to crybabies?"

Vehemently Hazel shook her no; her eyes growing painfully wide in shock. Staring at the blue eyed brunette, Hazel's head slowly seemed to stop moving; just soft shakes of adrenaline. What're they going to do; beat me up? Hazel's thoughts seem to run wild. At this point it seems like they could do just about whatever they wanted to her and no one would come.

Abruptly, Hazel was ripped out of her thoughts when she is suddenly thrown onto the floor; her body loudly thudding against the dusty wooden floor. Lifting up her head Hazel frantically crawled forward; the gap underneath the bed barely big enough for her to crawl under. Gritting her teeth Hazel latched her fingers in between the floor boards. As she did this, sets of hands coil around her legs. Shit. Biting her lip, Hazel nearly screamed in fear when the hands simultaneous heaved back. All too much like a bad dream, Hazel's luck curtly ran short when another tug pulled her body back. Her short nails scraping painfully against the wood, and in a desperate attempt, she rapts at the wooden floor boards one last time, kicking her legs as she did.

But this only seems to further her pain. The hands don't let go, instead they grip tighter and pull. This time pulls takes a few finger nails with them. Hazel isn't quite sure where to direct her attention. The hot throbbing in her fingers, the sudden rush of movement, or even the blinding light that seems to make her feel more distorted than she thought possible. Suddenly her body was held up straight, but she only wants to puke. The pain making her uncomfortably hot and her head throb.

"Damn, that looked like it fucking hurt." A deep voice whispered in her ear, as hand squeezed her shoulder painfully hard.

She can't see through the tears, nor can Hazel really hear. But she's instantly made aware of her surroundings when she's suddenly tipped upside down, and dunked into a pool of water. Instantly her ears seem to clog and pop at the sudden submergence, the cold water shocking her face.

"Swirly!" Marie's voice flutters throughout the room, her voice high and titillating. By the tone of Marie's voice, one could only assume that Marie is having the best day of her life.

In hindsight this really is one of the best days of her life, while for Hazel, it's easily the worst.

Flailing around, Hazel chokes and wheezes as her long hair clings heavily to her face. Then in one fell swoop, viscously sliding up, well, more or so down her face. Feeling a heavy suction on her head, Hazel swishes her head around in confusion. Everything is happening far too fast for her to comprehend.

"Awe… Look at her tidy whities'!"

A male voice from nowhere chimed in. To Hazel the voice seems to be just about everywhere, slowly echoing in her mind. And although the voice seemed to nowhere and everywhere, bells flood her mind. Suddenly aware that everyone can see her underwear, Hazel let's out a uneven shriek. Her hands go instantly flying to the nearest thing to grab a hold of. Unfortunately for Hazel, the nearest things for her to grab are not the things she would have preferred to grab.

Roughly Hazel yanks down on a loose material, an annoyed yell filtering throughout the stall. Almost instantly, Hazel's head abruptly collides with the porcelain innards.

The other three occupants have left. _She _doesn't know where they went, but she knows that it's away from her; and that's more than enough for Hazel.

Not quite sure how to process the moment, Hazel simply lets her head hang. Cold tendrils of hair briskly shake as she heavily breathes, the shock of moment finally setting in. Slowly lifting her hands, she wraps them around the toilet seat, gripping with the strength she doesn't have. Gritting her teeth Hazel felt her body start to tremble and her lungs to become incredibly heavy.

Drawing out a heavy breath, Hazel tries to ignore the painful way her lungs lurch. Her breathes hitching into a jagged kind of call. Wheezing out a breath, a sort of hollow wail tumbled from her lips. She's too exhausted to cry, but at this point is there really a better time to do so? Swiveling her body around she leans against the stall, wet hair clinging onto anything it can. Then one by one her tears burned their way down her face; leaving red trail marks that are more painful than they look.

How could anyone be so mean? Why do people have to be so mean? Who made them like that? Were they always like that? Hazel's thoughts seem to run off in every direction. Trying to process what type of trauma it'd take for someone to become like that is unfathomable for her. Her only justification being that; some people are just cruel. Nothing more, and nothing less; just plain and bitter spite that prays upon the weak.

Yet again, it seemed like hours till Hazel moved. Her hair, that's still disgustingly damp, still clings to the cubed walls around her. Her shirt holds to her body in the places where she finds it the least comfortable. Wet, cold, and clammy is the best way to describe what Hazel's body feels like. And for one, she hates the bizarre vulnerability it gives her. The uncomfortable feeling revealing some other emotions and thoughts Hazel simply did not want to think. For instance, how she'd really like to crawl in a hole and die. But for Hazel, she knew that some people are only so lucky.


	4. Chapter 3

**HorrorFan13:** Thank you so much for the review, and unfortunately, I can't say there's going to be a lot of happy moments for Hazel. But there will definitely be a lot of little happy moments.

I've seen a lot of other authors putting song quotes so I thought I'd give it a go too.

Shout Shout

Let it all out

These are the things I can do without

_It's dark. _

_A single light is staged over a head of long hair. The surrounding area is vague, but mainly seems to be predominately gray. There's a stiffness in the air that can be felt and seen. But the dead silence is painfully alerting. _

_The long haired girl slowly starts to shift, her eyes opening and closing as she tries to take in her new surroundings. To Hazel the room is blurry, and she cant decipher the area around her. This cuases concern to enter her veins. Jerking her eyes opens, her breath hitches frantically in fear. Instantly she lerches forward. Her body nearly taking her, and the chair down. But unfortunately they both stay rooted in their positions. Frantically, Hazel looks down to see her wrists and ankles bound to a metal chair. Obnoxiously heavy metal straps keeping her pinned _

_down. _

_"__So... ******* you refuse to give us *******. You know how we don't like to be told no… don't you? Although I guess that doesn't really matter anymore." A mans voice speaks through the silence, his voice not overly deep, but, not all that high either. _

_Hazel isn't sure how to respond to his words, unsure of what she had exactly said no to. Staring into the darkness, Hazel watches as a shadow seems to faintly glow in the darkness; then click. Turning her head away, she watches as the figure is suddenly illuminated. A second stage light appearing across the newly materialized table. Sitting at the other end is a man. His face is a blurred mess and the only thing about him that is decipherable is his gray suit and blue tie. _

_Not sure how to handle this new appearance, Hazel slinks down into the suddenly cool chair. Her back elicting in chills as a cold sweat starts to form. _

_"__Do you really have nothing to say? Do You!"_

_The man started calmly as he spoke, but then his demeanor changed. His breath heavy and palms sweaty with anger as he stares at the girl. _

_"__I-I… I don't know- What did I say no to?" _

_Hazel's confused voice cut through his mind and jumped at her ignorance. _

_"__Oh… So you don't know… that's it huh? Well I guess we'll just have to make you remember if you're just that admant on not knowing." _

_Slowly the man stands up. Stalking over to Hazel like a wolf, she tries to sink back even further. But unfortunetly for Hazel, metal can only bend so far. Tensing her body, she closes her eyes and tenses her body away. The only sound being a loud swish of air then-_

"Will you wake the fuck UP already?!" A loud voice screams as they shake at Hazels' body.

Scurrying away from the body, Hazel's body seemed to react before she could even process what's happening. Opening her eyes wide she stares at _Bertha_, Marie, in fright. The older girl seems to pay no mind as shrugs away the smaller girls fear.

"School starts in thirty, oh will you stop staring at me like that."

Walking away, Marie exits the room while adjusting her tie, leaving Hazel to collect her thoughts. Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, Hazel crawled off the bed and stood up fully. Alright calm down Hazel, you're fine, no one's here; she's gone. Pacing around the room, she realized how short she's running for time, which also alluded to another thought. Where is the school anyways? What grade am I in? Scratching her head, Hazel quickly peels her crinkled clothes off her body; switching them to the wrinkled set from the bed.

Standing still, she numbly walks around the room, sliding her lounge on the back of teeth. Grimacing, Hazel notes how her teeth feel akin to trying to eat a banana peel. Gritty, and annoyingly impossible to forget. Furrowing her brows she walks out of the room and into the swirly room. A sinking feeling settling in her stomach as she walks in. walking to the sinks she notes how there's no toothbrushes. In fact the only thing that is there, is soap and toothpaste dispensers. How would a toothpaste dispenser even work? She thought as poked at the thing, noting how it's all mechanical and, no electrical. Realizing that there are no toothbrushes around Hazel does the lazy thing and squirts some toothpaste onto her finger.

Once she finishes brushing her teeth, she notices the stench of toilet water still mildly clinging to her skin, like a coat of smelly rain. Glum, Hazel decides it's finally time to go to school. Swiftly she avoids eye contact with everyone as she walks into he- no their, room and deftly grabs her empty backpack. Making her way down the stairs she wonders what school was like for her previously. Hazel doubts she was cool in any sense seeing her treatment here. But she also hoped, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she had some friends. Hell, even _a_ friend was better than _no _friend.

Nervously picking at her fingers, the frizzy haired brunette makes her way down the stairs; her feet landing with a thud as she bounced onto the last stair platform. Keeping her head down, she starts up a brisk pace as she treks across the hallway. Keeping her head down, she starts up a brisk pace as she treks across the hallway. She almost made it to the door when a smell hit her. a smelly smell that reminded her of the one thing that makes her very aware of her humanity.

Food.

Teetering over to the sound of loud, yet hushed voices, peeking in through the doorway Hazel watches curiously. The remaining residents, those who haven't gone to school, are chatting away loudly. Idly, Hazel lets her drift, trying to find the source of food. But to her unfortunate luck the food is nowhere in sight. But, what she does see is another archway; in the archway appears to be a stove and some cabinets. Switching her gaze back to the crowd, she assesses the situation. People still coral the tables and they don't look to be too friendly. Especially since Big Bertha is laughing boisterously laughing at the boy from yesterday. A nervous feeling crawls up her back as she stares at him. A bizarre fear circulating in her throat as she keeps her eyes on him.

Then it happened, turning his head, the tall boy made eye contact with the short girl. Sending a quick, yet malicious grin at her, and in return she only shrinks back. No longer hungry, but feeling rather sick. Turning away to leave, Hazel cringes when a voice calls out,

"Hey, Sloth Eyes! Wanna sit with us?"

Heaving a breath, Hazel turns around to face Marie, her arm wrapped around the tall boy defensively. Shooting a glare to Hazel, she smiles as she pecks a kiss to his cheek. Hazel unsure of how to handle to the situation shifts her balance on her feet.

"I-uh-no thank you." Hazel's words come out shaky as she continues to switch her pacing. Shifting her eyes, she lets her thoughts drift.

I wonder if I was ever stress eater. Hearing the scraping of a chair Hazel's head instantly jerks up as stares at her brutish roommate. Starting her trek over Hazel started to trudge backwards when suddenly, a tall girl stood up; an angry glare mares the girls face. Grabbing her dark blue backpack she briskly walks after Marie. Gripping her shoulder, the tall girl whispers something to Marie, and just like, Marie was suddenly glowering her way back to her seat. Now the girl had turned back to Hazel and is currently trudging over to her. Her face is stern and stiff and her footsteps are loud and heavy on the old wooden floors; much like a bull. Flinching away, Hazel quickly turns around, making way from the tall girl. But much to Hazel's dismay, a heavy arm is heavily draped over her shoulder.

"Keep Walking." Nodding heavily, Hazel follows the harsh, yet softly spoken command.

I wonder where we're going. Following the taller girls pull, Hazel watches as she opens the front door. Walking through, Hazel flinches as she loudly slams it shut behind her; a light breeze of wind lulling her hair back. Staring up at the taller girl, Hazel stares at her eyes as they suddenly make eye contact. Instantly Hazel turns red and switches her gaze back to the dirty sidewalk of New York.

"You shouldn't let her push you around like dat'"

Her accent is a thick, and Hazel can't tell if it's more New Yorker or Spanish; her words coming out quick and not overtly fluent. Hazel fiddles with her thumbs as she turns her gaze back to the tall, dark brunette. Shrugging in response, Hazel just overall feels heavy at her words. Furrowing her eyebrows in curiosity, Hazel watches as she takes a swig from a water bottle.

"Want some?"

Swishing her lips to the side, Hazel takes the bottle, studying it curiously. Looks like normal water. Feeling dryness in her throat she mulls in a big breath of water.

"Whoa slow down…"

As the words left the dark haired girls mouth, Hazel finally took the time to realize, the water she's drinking is not in fact water. Nearly gagging at the cool rawness in her throat, Hazel shoves the bottle back to her. Heaving over she suddenly starts to cough and choke at the rush of burn in her throat, and waviness in her head. Did she just poison me! Thoughts crash in her mind through a haze of fog.

"That's' not water! Whats the hell is tat?!" Hazel yells through a hushed scream as she becomes comfortably unstable. The low throb from her fingernails suddenly reaching Hazel's whole body, turning it into a mush of waves.

"Are you stupid? It's tequila; the drink of chingaderas[1]"

"Tequila? Why would you drink in the morning, don't we have school? And wait… No one told me where the school is- do you know…" A hand suddenly appeared over Hazel's mouth, sloppily smothering it.

"whoa, calm down lil' mama, I'm gonna' bring you to the high school. I'm assuming la riena perra didn't tell you where la escuela es." Hazel's brows furrowed in confusion at the older girls mixture of Spanish.

Not sure how to respond, Hazel merely shrugs again. Her head lazily nodding as she does so. Lolling her head side to side in a sing song manner, she takes in her surroundings. The area appears to be relatively dodgy neighborhood. Trash liters the streets and the local homeless sleep restlessly in the quiet alleyways. The buildings seem to be mainly composed of brick. The windows are covered by cartoon, and solid colored sheets.

Least to say, Hazel sticks close to the brazen girl.

Glancing up at the girl, she studies her features. Her hair is long and pin straight, its' color being a shade just below black. It's the type of color that glows a warm brown in the sunlight, making it seem like the hair itself is actually glowing. Her eyes are narrow yet somehow doe-y, their color being a deep and pale brown. Her skin is a glowing tan. Overall she is quite pretty, no she is certainly too pretty; looking more like a model than a girl who lives in a group home in the ghetto of queens. And more importantly, Hazel thought in dejection, doesn't have sloth eyes like me.

"My names Isabella by the way, I uh- never got yours, pero, I'm going to give a buena adivina y say it's not sloth eyes." Isabella words cut through silence as the girls cross the street. The mid toned sky seemingly glowing brighter the further they walk.

"Hazel, Hazel Redwood. I'm not too sure why they call me sloth eyes. My eyes aren't that droopy…" looking forward Hazel watches from the corner of her eye as Isabella suddenly throws her hands into the air.

"Well, Hazel Redwood, I think I like you, you're nice… yo creo que, so if my brute of a sister tries to pull some shit like that again… please feel free to share."

Nodding her head, Hazel ignores the slight burn in her face at Isabella's bluntness. Who just openly says they like someone? Maybe that's the effect of the tequila. Hazel's thoughts seem to pull her away from reality, her thoughts drifting to the sense of comfort brought on by the older girl.

"Say Hazel, how old are ya' anyways? We haven't had any fresh meat in a while." Chuckling at her own humor, Isabella wipes hastily at her mouth area.

"Thirteen… You know it's kind of weird."

"What, being thirteen? Trust me, it gets worse." Shaking her head with a light chortle, Hazel rubs at her forehead.

"No, the fact that I can't even remember being thirteen. Like I didn't know I was thirteen till Ms. Huckleberry told me!" Hazel exclaimed in confusion as she flamboyantly moves her arms about.

"Well this is where I leave you! Good luck!"

"What?"

Hazel looked around for the tall brunette, but somehow, she had managed to disappear before Hazel could even try to spot her. Heaving a sigh she glanced up at the brick building in front her.

"Well here goes nothing."

AN

sorry for the time it took to update, I recently graduated high school and have been hanging out with some of my friends. It's sad to say, but I know for some it's going to be some of the last times I ever get the chance to see these people. I'm trying not to think too much about it. That's it for now, till next time :) -egg


	5. Chapter 4 (re upload)

Many thanks to reviewer Horrorfan13

Get me out all your self-commendations

Don't face me no, I'd rather be blind to my malformations

Don't tell me I act like a child, I grew up in a basement

Practicing a smile

hoving the heavy, blue door open Hazel cringes as a loud _ding ding ding _sounds off throughout the long hallway. The floors are checkered blue and white, the white cement walls littered with plaques and photos. A few old, black, box T.V.s awkwardly hand from the corners of the walls. Their screens blank and empty… Just like the hallways. Giving a quick glance at the billboard she read the bold words in blue and white _Jefferson Middle School_. Well this isn't a high school? Hazel thought nervously as she looked for a place to go.

Wandering to the back of the hallways, she noticed how all the doors are shut with fogged glass, windows. Feeling her hair bounce in front of her face, Hazel shoves a lazy hand through her hair. Raking the long locks back, she grimaces. What's with these places being so outdated? She thought grim, as she stares about the old building that seems to look more like an old apartment building than a school.

"Where the hell is the office?" Hazel mumbles out loud, her vision a wavy mess and a heavy sweat building on her forehead from the long walk.

After turning through a few hallways, Hazel finally found her target; _Office Administration_. Who the hell puts a main office in the back of the building, like where no one can see. Grumbling at her thoughts, she gently opens the door, meekly poking her head through the door. Deeming it _safe, _Hazel walks into the astonishingly white room. The walls and floor are a bright white; the metal and plastic chairs are white. The only thing that isn't white are the desk and black plastic chairs that that office women sit in. Speaking of office women, Hazels eyes landed on the only one present and trudges forward.

"Hi," Hazel voice is shockingly quiet, and she wonders if she's always been this meek.

The secretary doesn't look up from her computer that she's loudly clacking away at. Her bright red nails glistening in the sunlight from the windows. Staring at the name plate in front of the secretary she read the words, Mrs. Maria A. Llonessa.

"May I help you?"

Hazel glanced up at the stout, dark haired woman. Her voice oddly crunchy yet smooth, almost like peanut butter; almost like she's smoked about fifty packs of cigarettes. Mrs. Llonessa doesn't even bother to look up Hazel, even when she speaks; which causes Hazel's drunken thoughts to spark yet again; wow… She doesn't even bother to look up, bitch. Making a face at her own thoughts, Hazel picks at her fingers. Whew, that was a little harsh; chuckling lightly she scratches at her knuckles.

"Uh yeah, I'm new and would like a schedule… I think I'm already late too…"

Switching her gaze from the computer, the stout woman eyes are suspicious of Hazel.

"Well I'd bet you'd like that huh?"

Furrowing her brows her brows, Hazel shakes her head in a sarcastic confusion. What the fuck is wrong with this woman? Hazel noted as she grimaced at her thoughts. She had never pegged herself for being so crude.

Watching the woman with stern eyes, Hazel watches as she turns backwards and yells for a Suzanne. At the sound of the call, a short, old woman walks out from behind an office cubical. Her salt and pepper gray hair rolled up in big barrel curls. Walking towards Hazel and Mrs. Llonessa, she eyes the younger in haste and then pushes up her iconic red glasses.

"We have a new one; she's going to need a placement test also." Llonessa speaks as she turns around, her face hitching in a grimace.

"Oh, well, do you have her file yet?"

"She didn't hand me one."

"Well maybe you should ask…"

"I think I rather ask Rick, she seems a little… hrm, dense."

Do they think I can't hear what they're saying, because I can hear them QUITE clearly! Hazel's thoughts run loud in her head as she palms her fist in annoyance. Are they just that oblivious? Feeling the urge to cry in pity, Hazel simply runs a heavy hand down her face; Distraught at their ignorance.

"Do you have a file?"

"No!" Hazel barks at the woman, her patience suddenly runs dangerously thin at their rudeness.

"Well! You will not scream at me like that, or at all young lady! Now take this sheet and please fill out all the proper information on it. We did receive a call from Ms. Richards for you arrival. She will be stopping by with the rest of your information shortly."

Shuffling her feet, Hazel tries to ignore the hast uncomfortablity that came with the awkward scolding. Lightly taking the clip board from the woman, Hazel listens as she murmurs out a simple, _kids these days_ and goes back to typing. Turning her head back forward, Hazel sits on one of the white plastic chairs that are placed about four feet away from Llonessa's desk. Staring at the papers she notes that they don't ask much, which she finds a little suspicious, but she assumes that maybe since the school is in a shit area, they probably don't really care.

Staring at the information in slight confusion, Hazel simply writes what she _thinks_ is correct. Which more or so translates to Hazel writing in chicken scratch so it's barely ledgible, forcing them to have to use the information Ms. Richards has. But the more she writes in her chicken language, the more she finds it to be her actual penmanship. Sloping slightly to the side, she mulls over how her body suddenly feels rather sluggish. Her body like heavy wet concrete, and her head feeling like a ground magnet; being pulled to the floor, to be stuck forever. Which in all honesty, being stuck to the ground sounds quite nice to Hazel. But on the other note, the insane urge to dance and flail suddenly over takes hazel. I don't get it, why do I feel so lethargic, yet so ready to party?

Smiling sickly, Hazel checks the last bit of information on the paper. Slowly, with weak arms and a body far too out of equilibrium, she stands up. Feeling rather giddy she giggles softly as she hands the information over to Ms. Llonessa.

"Alright… so if you'd follow Mrs. Ozbon, she'll take you to a separate room to take the placement exam. I'm also obligated to tell you about a scholarship that is still being offered if you'd like to try and apply for it. All it is, is more placement testing." Pushing up her glasses she points Hazel to the old woman from before; Suzanne.

"Hi Hazel, if you could just follow me I'll show you where the testing area is."

How does she know my name? scratching at her chin in a curious manner, Hazel follows after the short woman who is still somehow taller than her. Walking into a small side office, Hazel glances around the room. There's two student desks facing a wall, and before the desks, there is a full size desk placed behind them.

"You can sit here Hazel, you aren't allowed a calculator, and no other reference materials- including phones, dictionaries, and calculators. You may begin."

Placing down the test with a sharp, yellow, number two pencil; she leaves, leaving Hazel alone with the test. Sitting down she stares at the lazy eyes, listlessly she flips through the three packets of thick paper. Is this it? Shouldn't there be more? Hazel's mouth ticks into a wide grin as she reads over the papers contents. Finally taking moment to actually read some of it.

"This is too easy!" she whisper yells in excitement.

If there is one thing Hazel has learned since she has been out of her coma its, she love non-challenge related things. She'll sign up for anything as long as it doesn't oppose a challenge. Although, she hasn't really seen anything that has posed as a challenge. Shifting her attention back to the test, she picks up the pencil and starts to fill in answers. The first section of the test is English, Hazel notes how all the question are mainly basic English. Barely touching on anything overly figurative, just basic sentence structure and grammar skills.

This is too easy, who doesn't know how to annotate an essay- seriously who doesn't know what a simile is?! What idiots have been taking these tests! Grinning like a fool Hazel continues onto the math portion of the test; instantly she notices how all the math is basic algebra. The testing barely touching on the subjects more intermediate parts. But either way, to Hazel, this is merely child's play.

"Am I a genius or what." She softly chortles to herself in a not so lady like manner.

After flying through the English and Math, the test seemed to mix together social sciences. Barely even touching anything that has more to with a cloud and the ground. And boy, if Hazel thought the last two sections were easy, this could be compared to melted butter.

Slamming her pencil down with a sly grin, Hazel turns around and stares out the open door way. Sending the same grin to Llonessa who's still sitting pert behind her computer; her eyes far to absorbed into the screen.

"I'm done!" Instantly Llonessa's head turned to the girl. Slowly standing up, she nabs the test away from Hazel.

"Did you double check it, are you sure you're happy with your answers? You only took 25 minutes; usually the test takes about an hour." Llonessa's voice comes out as confused, and seemingly concerned as she stares at the sloppy penmanship. But on the other stance, her face is nonchalant; the only thing giving her away is her tone of voice. "Well, let me go over your answers and we can make a schedule for you."

Walking out the room Llonessa plops down at her desk and stares at the test. Her eyes already half burnt from typing on the computer for so long, well if an hour counted as long. If there's anything she hates more than checking the tardy list, it's correcting snot nosed brats papers. So with a sigh, she begins her trek, pulling up a correction sheet from the computer she stares at the test, and then back at the paper. Furrowing her brows she flips through the paper, and then glances back on the screen.

"It's all correct…Mierda…"

Taking another ten minutes to stop staring at the test like a fish, she quickly printed out the other test for the scholarship. Most kids she wouldn't bother doing this for, but since Hazel passed with a score of one hundred two, she deemed her worthy. Grabbing the printed papers, Llonessa quickly staples them together. Walking back into the room where Hazel is deftly sleeping she instantly spots the long trail of drool winding down Hazels' chin. Heaving a heavy sigh, she's reminded of just how much she hates children.

"Ms. Redwood please wake up." Lifting with her head with a jerk, Hazel stares up at the woman; her eyes heavy with sleep.

"I'm not sleeping." She feverently denies, but unfortunetly for Hazel the evidence is left on her face.

"Well anyways, I bring good news, it's all correct- well I mean you've done well, if you'd like, which I strongly encourage. I think you should take the exam for the scholarship. It's automatic entry into the school if you score high enough. What do you say?" Llonessa rushes out in a ramble, already having confirmation from Richards to go through with the plan, of course only if Hazel agrees.

Hazel, not too aware of what's happening nods a simple 'sure,' and watches with blurred eyes as the test is placed infront of her. Furrowing her brows, she watches as Llonessa scurries out of the room, her shoe lightly catching on the carpet. A light _oof_ sound echoing throughout the room as she stumbles out.

Staring down at the new test, she automatically notices the difference in formality of the tests. This test came in a plastic wrapper, and just from the plastic, Hazel could feel the difference in complexities. Ripping open the test, she pulled out a bubble sheet, information's sheet and then two packets; one stating English Comprehension and the other Mathematics Comprehension. Pulling the information sheet out first, Hazel quickly started with filling in the information. Mulling through the words, her brows furrowed and her eyes squinted at the different sections; mainly the ones about race. But she merely shrugged it off as some sort of statistic.

Throwing the information sheet to the side, she then picked up the test and bubble sheet. The directions are self-explanatory, stating;

**_All answers must be bubbled in on the bubble sheet_**

**_All questions answered in the booklet will not be reviewed or graded_**

Flipping open the English packet first, Hazel groaned, she found that English is not her strongest suit. The other test was a mere exception, seeing at how pathetically easy the test was. But now, she's being thrown _real _English, well something you'd actually at least have to think about before writing. Rubbing her head she started to bubble in the sheet, a mild headache starting to creep into her head. Time seemed to fly by, and so did the test. Next thing she knew, the was on the mathematics' packet. This seemed to show a change in Hazel's thoughts.

Scratching her chin with a pencil, she suddenly feels as though a light bulb has gone off in her head. The math seemed as easy as speaking, and Hazel honestly wasn't sure why. Why would integral calculus seem easy? Hazel couldn't recall ever learning this; why would she ever need to integral calculus? Hell, any calculus. It just didn't make sense to her, but it also did at the same time.

Rolling through the math, she noted how both tests didn't bother much with language, social sciences, or really any science at all. Which seemed to bore Hazel, but she merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it, other than the headache that seemed to be getting worse. Speaking of headaches; Hazel dipped her head, dramatically dropping the pencil and leaned her head down. Letting out a low groan, she shoves the test away; her lips feeling rather numb along with her fingers.

"I'm done, I'm done, I'm done…" The words tumble from her mouth in a drunken repetition.

Picking up the papers, Hazel eloquently stumbles back into the office.

"Oh! Miss. Redwood it appears you've finished the test! Congratulations, I'll take that from you- and you can sit back over there."

This time it was Llonessa to speak, in fact she seemed to be nowhere around here, or in the general area. It was just Mrs. Ozbon, or Osbon, Hazel couldn't quite remember the woman's name. She also really didn't care either. So following her words, she sat back down on the white plastic chair. Her head numbly throbbing, as she quickly fell asleep to the sound of shuffling papers and, the clacking of fingers on a keyboard.


End file.
